Brother Dave Morehouse
D:.I:.A:. Remote Viewer & NDE Experiencer
1996 by David Morehouse
St Martins Press, New York
"Inhaling deeply, I tried cleansing myself of the toxins in my mind.
I sucked in the cold air, trying to exhale the haunting images that
plagued me. After several purifying breaths I leaned over the hood
of the car, resting my head against the warm metal. God, I HAD to
get a grip. Why was this bothering me so much? What was the big
deal? I slammed my fist into the hood. I knew what the fucking big
deal was. I was reading about human beings who turned into
fucking ghosts, and as if that weren't enough, they traveled in
time to look at stuff and come back again. They fucking hovered
above the ground, walked through walls and spoke to evil spirits..."
Powerful Religious Artifacts: A Remote View
by Major David Morehouse
I was scheduled for a ten o'clock ERV session with a training target
and Mel as my monitor. We walked to the viewing building together.
Mel carried his coffee in a broken-down chipped-up mug about a
hundred and fifty years old. I was surprised it held liquid, but he
was never without it.
"I think you'll enjoy today's little journey," he said.
"I could use a little entertainment."
Once I was set up and ready, I started my countdown; in a few
minutes I was entering the ether and on my way to the target.
"Give me your impressions as soon as possible. I don't want you
wasting any time here."
"I'm someplace like a cave. It smells musty and the ground is cold.
The air isn't moving at all, and it's completely dark. I can't see
anything at all." I moved forward in the direction the signal line
"No, I see a small flicker of light in front of me."
Riley leaned back in his chair and watched the video monitor
closely. "Good! See what the light is."
I moved toward the light as fast as I could, but it seemed to move
away from me, as if I were chasing something in a dream. I chased
the light for about ten minutes, but though I was moving in what I
thought was a straight line, I just wasn't gaining any ground.
Frustrated, I stopped.
"I've stopped moving toward the light source, Mel. I just couldn't
close on it. I don't know if I'm not really moving, or if it's
moving away from me. I'm just standing here in the dark now."
"Do you sense anything in the darkness? Anyone or anything?"
My first thought was Great! Just what I want to do, grab something
in the dark. "All I can say, Mel, is this target better not be a
page out of the Odyssey. If I run into a-"
"Oh, be quiet and look around. You can't remote-view something that
never happened, for crying out loud."
Suddenly, the cavern I stood in was flooded with brilliant light
that came from within the surrounding stone. The light vanished as
quickly as it had come. "What the hell was that?" I shouted.
"Tell me what you saw."
"I saw a light coming from the walls of the cavern. By the way, I am
in a cavern; the light just confirmed that. But it's dark again and
I see nothing."
Again and again the light pulsed and disappeared, like a strobe. The
pulses seemed to pierce my eyes and ears, even my flesh. The
temperature of the cavern began to rise rapidly, and it was
increasingly difficult to breathe. I told Mel so.
"You need to move on out of there," he replied. "Take a look around
for another passageway."
Sure enough, behind me was a wide arched passage into another room.
I hadn't seen it because I was facing away from it chasing the
light; in retrospect, it was as if the light had been trying to lead
The next room was smaller, a rectangle about twenty feet by ten feet
with a ceiling maybe fifteen feet high. Like the larger chamber, it
was lit from within the surrounding stone, but something was
different, as if the pulsing energy I'd felt in the larger chamber
"I'm in the smaller of the two rooms, and there seems to be no way
out of this one except the entrance I used. I sense some form of
energy here, and I'm having difficulty focusing my vision on the
center of the room. There's something here that I can't see -- but
there's something here, for sure."
"An object, a personality, a definitive energy source?"
I struggled to see. "There's a low platform in the center of the
room. It's carved out of stone."
"What are its dimensions?"
"About five feet by three feet, and maybe ten inches high. I can't
see ...it's like a mirage in the center of the room."
"You can't focus on it?"
"Exactly. It's vibrating too fast. The vibration's like a camouflage
of sorts. Something's there, but I'm not supposed to be seeing it.
Something very unusual and powerful."
"Okay, here's what I want you to do. Try and move to a time when
there is less vibration and you might be able to see."
I understood; we'd worked on movement exercises like this before.
The idea was that if I initiated movement in time the signal line
would take me where I could view the target clearly. It had worked
on some small training targets, but I hadn't tried it on anything
I concentrated on the movement through time and closed my eyes to
the events speeding by. I felt vertigo setting in, which indicated
the speed of my movement. I'd found it best to keep my eyes closed
so as not to vomit. Finally the sensation of movement slowed
gradually and stopped. When I opened my eyes, I beheld the most
In the center of the room a group of peasants chipped away at the
stone of the floor, forming the pedestal I'd already seen. Now time
scrolled forward, stopped briefly, then scrolled forward again: the
signal line was moving me at will, allowing me to see the room at
various points in time. Finally it stopped completely, at a point it
must have "felt" was critical to the mission.
In amazement, I watched as four men dressed in ancient-seeming
clothes carried a golden box into the room. One man at each corner
of the object, they reverently positioned it in the center of the
stone pedestal and retreated backward from the room, their heads
bowed. Now a huge stone covered the room's entrance, and slowly all
outside light was blocked as the men labored to seal the passage.
Oddly, the golden box kept the room lighted. And the same strange
energy I had felt before, when I could see nothing, filled the
cavern. A sense of threat came over me; I felt I was being warned
not to approach the box.
"What's going on, David?"
"I'm in the presence of the object and it's very weird, as though I
were standing in the presence of some very powerful deity. The
golden box is a symbol of that power, and it's warning me not to
"I want you to ignore the warning and get as close as you can. Touch
it if you can, and describe the sensation to me."
I tried to move toward the object. "It's a golden box with animals
on top of it."
"No, small statues, and they have wings that sweep backward and up.
The box itself is very powerful, or maybe it's something that
protects the box that's powerful. Whatever it is, I can't get any
closer. I feel I'm in real danger of being hurt; I don't like this."
"Remember, you're not physically there. But tell me what you think
would happen if you were physically there. Describe that sensation
"I think that nothing mortal can be in this presence. I couldn't
even be in the same room with it; if I were, I'd perish instantly."
"No, I don't think 'die' is the word. I'm thinking more along the
lines of being vaporized. But I seem to feel that that would mean
another movement to another place, only I wouldn't have any control
over it. What I'm trying to say is, nobody's supposed to be here.
Even we aren't supposed to be here; it's an invasion, an intrusion
into something very powerful and sacred."
"Ah, that word 'sacred.' Explore that a bit -- look into the essence
of the box. What's there that's sacred?"
I moved around the box carefully, never taking my eyes off it and
never letting the doorway out of my sight. "Well, I sense that this
symbol is, or has been used as, a tool."
"What sort of tool?"
"I don't know exactly. It had some very lofty purpose, and it served
a great number of people for a long time. Then it was placed here
until it was needed again. Many people lost their lives to be able
to use it; even more died in order to get it here."
"Why is it in that lonely place, do you think?"
"It's been hidden until called out again. Its purpose has been
served for now, but not forever. It's being protected. If you try to
unravel its secret you are dumbfounded and confused -- that's one of
its defenses. If you stumble upon it, you are destroyed or taken
away to another place for fear you might reveal the secret."
"All right; you've been there an hour and forty minutes now. Let's
break it off and come home."
Those were the words I wanted to hear. I felt very uncomfortable and
vulnerable in the cavern. "I'm on my way."
An hour later I sat in the garden room with Levy and Mel and
discussed my session with them. They began with the usual questions:
"What did you think it was? What is this sketch of? How did you
feel?" And so on. They marveled at my sketches of the box and the
winged creatures that adorned it. They discussed the powerful unseen
presence and the indications of a protective force.
We talked for
more than an hour without them revealing anything concrete about the
target, but finally Mel suggested that I be given my feedback. Like
a dog waiting for a bone, I waited for the envelope. Levy opened it
first and looked inside, smiling. Of course, he already knew what
the target was; he just wanted to amuse himself with another look at
the feedback. Shaking his head, he tossed the artist's sketch from
the envelope on the desk in front of me and walked out of the room.
"Well, aren't you going to look at it?" Riley asked.
I turned the paper over to see a painting and description of the Ark
of the Covenant. "Oh, my God," I said slowly.
"'Oh, my God' are the exact words I was looking for." Riley laughed.
"I was sure you were gonna say 'em anytime. But the damned thing is
just too powerful. I had the same problem. The only person to ever
call it in the air, so to speak, was Posner. I think it's because
he's such a hardhead he didn't hear the thing warning him not to
come any closer, or maybe he knew what it looked like before he got
started -- he's kind of religious, you know. Have you ever seen a
"Nope! I've heard of it -- I mean, who hasn't? But I never knew what
it looked like. Or felt like."
"Some very important religious articles were carried around the
desert in that thing. It went along with Moses in the wilderness."
"Yeah, I'm sort of familiar with the story. I had to take religion
every semester at BYU."
"Did you know the Ark was part of a dimensional opening?"
"What do you mean, 'dimensional opening'?"
"I mean a portal that lets you move from one dimension to another. I
think God dwells in a four-dimensional world; that's why He's
omnipresent and omniscient. When the high priests went into the
inner sanctum of the Temple in the wilderness, they tied ropes to
their ankles so their buddies could pull them back. These guys were
traveling somewhere, and I believe it was to another dimension,
where they would commune with the Creator. The ropes on their ankles
were their way of making sure they had a round-trip ticket. Cool,
I stared at him. "You never cease to amaze me, my friend."
Space Aliens: A Remote View
"The CIA is in the business of manipulating the belief systems of
entire nations. I doubt they're above working in their own back yard
if it suits them."
-Major David Morehouse, DIA Remote Viewer
One day two weeks later, with Mel monitoring, I undertook what was
called an open search. In an open search, you have no coordinates to
guide you; you just invite the signal line to take you wherever
there's something to be learned. Remote viewers did these every so
often just so they could remember that there are more of them out
there -- more planets, more beings, more civilizations -- than there
are of us...I guess. This was my first such search. Mel had spent
the last two days coaching me, but as I began, all I could remember
was that they were always humbling experiences, full of surprises.
"Tell me where you are," Mel said.
"In the middle of a prairie. I can see a series of jagged rocks
jutting out of the ground about fifty yards away. They're maybe a
hundred feet high and they look like black crystals set at a
forty-five-degree angle in the ground. It's strikingly beautiful.
"I'm next to the crystals now, and I can see my reflection in them.
That's odd -- I've never been able to see my reflection in anything
on a search before. Also, the reflection looks as if it's a couple
of meters inside the crystal.
"Whoa! I see other reflections in the crystals." I spun around,
thinking something must be beside or behind me, but nothing was.
These weren't reflections at all. "Mel! I see movement inside this
black crystal wall. The images look human, but I can't quite make
"Babe of the Abyss"
"Move into the wall and find out who they are."
I pressed my hand into the crystal and followed it in. "This seems
to be an entrance. There's a stairway leading down; it's about
twenty feet wide and it drops from here maybe two hundred feet below
the surface. I'm going to follow it."
"I want you to describe the beings to me. Tell me what they're
thinking, how they look, and what they do."
I descended the stairway. All around me was a labyrinth of causeways
and great arching entrances. Everything I saw was made of the black
crystal; everywhere I looked, there were people on foot.
"They look pretty much like us, I guess -- in fact, I can't see
anything markedly different. Their clothing is something like what
people wore in ancient Egypt, very loose-fitting and accented with
gold embroidery and metal. It's white, which contrasts tremendously
with the blackness of this place.
"I'm approaching a transparent archway. It covers the walkway I'm on
for several hundred feet. I'm in a big room, and this archway runs
the length of it. The damned thing is huge."
"Is there a central place where everyone's congregating?"
"I don't know; let me see." One walkway seemed to have heavier
traffic than the others, so I moved there. "I'm following a large
group now. It's a very strange feeling, walking among these beings.
I get the impression they know I'm here -- in fact, several of them
have looked directly at me and sort of smiled. They aren't
interested in me; they just seem to know I'm here."
"See if any of them will talk to you."
"Okay, whatever you say." Feeling stupid, I waved my arms at the
beings, spoke to them, even stood in their way. All they did was
look at me; I was in their path, they walked right through me.
"Nobody's talking here, Mel. Sorry!"
"Fine, see if you can find some central hub."
"I'm still following this large group; they seem to be turning off
...yeah, we're entering a large room, where everyone is standing
shoulder to shoulder. It's like an amphitheater, very narrow at the
bottom and wider at the top. Still made of the black crystal."
"What's going on in this place?"
"There's someone sitting in a big elevated chair at the bottom of
the room. Everyone here is paying very close attention to whatever
this thing says."
"Why are you calling this being a 'thing'?"
"Uh, that's a good question. I think because he or she or it is
larger than the others, and dressed differently. They're in all
white; this thing's in black. It has a large open hood over its
head, with long flowing sleeves that mostly cover its hands. The
hands are not like everyone else's; the texture is much rougher, and
the color is darker. If I had to call it, I'd say this one is very
"Okay, not evil. He's some kind of lawgiver or something. He directs
people to do things, and they do them without question. It's not
really clear; he points to people, motions to them, and they leave,
apparently to carry out some task."
"Can you speak to this lawgiver?"
"No! And I don't even want to try. I can tell he knows I'm here, but
he couldn't care less, and I get the impression he'll be pissed if I
try to flaunt the fact that I'm here."
"Okay. Have you seen enough?"
"Yeah, I think I have for now."
"Break it off and come on back."
I thought Mel might be disappointed by my timidity. It seemed he
wanted me to really assert myself and let the beings know I was
there, but I simply didn't feel comfortable doing that. I felt a
certain fascinate on in visiting another world, but I also
understood the need to treat it respectfully. I was an invader, not
a guest. I saw them look at me; I knew they were aware of my
presence, yet they chose not to speak. So it was clear to me that I
was being tolerated, not accepted. And I vowed I would never
interfere in other worlds. It was their prerogative to acknowledge
me, but I would never force myself on them.
Riley snatched my summary out of my hand. "Come on, let's get out of
here early and grab a beer. I want to talk to you."
"I hope you're not pissed at me because of the session."
"Pissed? There you go again, thinking you didn't do well. Dave, what
you get out of an open search is up to you; the unit doesn't have
any expectations. Open searches are freebies; you get to go where
the signal line takes you instead of telling it where you want to
go. They're like an amusement park, only the tickets are your RV
training. Ain't it great?"
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"So, did you learn anything?"
"I guess I learned that there are other worlds and other
civilizations, and that each one has its own agenda in the universe.
It puts things into perspective for me. I used to think of the human
race as God's chosen people, but I'm obviously wrong.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, who's to say where God's reign starts and stops? I mean, He
could be the overseer of that place I visited only hours ago; what
makes us any better than those beings?"
"You're catching on, my friend. We're nothing but a little blue spot
in a solar system, in a galaxy with a hundred million solar systems,
in a universe with a hundred million galaxies. And the truth is we
don't know where it ends, or if it does. And we aren't even talking
about dimensions yet. Gives you a headache, doesn't it?
I laughed. "It does at that. Let's go get that beer."
Gulf War Syndrome -- A Remote View
1990 RV Session:
I got hooked up and lay down to prepare myself, listening to
Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata over and over. Five times before I
started my countdown I listened to the anguished creation of a man
who realized he didn't belong in the world he found himself in. Five
times I listened before I found myself falling into a tunnel of
light and passing into another world.
I landed crouching and lingered for a moment, gaining my
equilibrium. When I rose to my feet I saw a black world of mist, and
a hollow sun above me.
"Something's wrong! I'm not at the target, Mel!" I cried. "Mel! I'm
Riley was scrambling to figure out what to do. "Calm down,
Morehouse, get a grip and tell me what you see."
"I'm off-planet and I -- Wait, I hear something."
"What is it?"
"Quiet! Just wait." And then I saw it, a Bradley Fighting Vehicle
roared past me out of the black haze. It was quickly followed by
another, and yet another, and then three more. They disappeared into
the smoke as quickly as they'd come. "Sorry, false alarm. I'm where
I'm supposed to be." I don't think I'd ever grinned in the ether
before. I thought for sure that Mel was cursing me under his breath.
"Give me a description of your surroundings, Dave. I need to try and
pinpoint your location."
"Well, I can't see much from here ...there's black smoke everywhere.
I must be standing in the plume of a burning vehicle or something.
Let me move to another vantage point." But no matter where I stopped
I found myself completely immersed in choking black smoke.
"I can't seem to shake this stuff, it's everywhere. I need to get
some real distance if I'm to get out of the smoke."
"Okay," Mel said, "whenever you're ready, I want you to move upward
five hundred feet and to the north twenty miles. Go ahead any time.
I felt myself move upward rapidly, and the ground below me blurred
as I sped across the terrain and settled in the new target area.
Here, too, the air was thick with the black smoke, the ground
littered with the rubble of the war. "I still can't see anything,
Mel. I think the entire area is blanketed with this stuff."
"What's it made of?"
"It tastes and smells like petroleum, and it's sticky, it coats
everything. It's got to be oil. I'm going to look around -- keep
"I'm here." Mel had to be impatient; he'd expected this to be
easier, and so had I.
I started moving in large circles, surveying the ground beneath me
and straining to see even fifty feet through the smoke.
Periodically, I came upon wrecked vehicles, more often civilian than
military ones. The tracks of hundreds of vehicles scarred the sand,
almost all going north or northwest. I followed them. I knew the
Iraqi army was in retreat, and I assumed they'd be heading away from
the direction their destroyed weapons were facing in. I passed over
the splayed bodies of many Iraqi soldiers; the smell of their flesh
in the desert heat was masked by the equally sickening stench of the
"I heard something roaring in the distance, Mel. I'm moving toward
it, but the temperature is increasing rapidly."
"I know, I can see your temp rising here. Keep your distance and
give me your perceptions.
"Don't worry, I'm getting too old to act stupid."
I traveled along the surface, where I could see more clearly. The
roaring got louder and louder, and the heat became unbearable. I
moved left and right until I found a spot where the heat was less
intense and I could get close enough to glimpse the source.
"It's an oil well. It's burning like crazy; flames must be shooting
fifty feet or more into the air. There's raw crude all over the
ground, but most of it has already burned. Mel, I've never seen
anything like this up close -- it's like a blowtorch standing on
end. I've got a hole in the smoke here, so I'm going straight up for
My phantom body rose to a height of thirty meters or so above the
well fire. I turned slowly in the air, surveying my surroundings.
Everywhere, as far as I could see, blazing torches sprang out of the
ground, belching flame and smoke. Plume mixed with plume until they
all joined together in one massive black blanket. The heat beneath
me reminded me that I had a job to do, and I returned to my lower
"This is bad, Mel; every oil well for as far as I can see is on
fire. This is real bad. I don't know what to do from here. Obviously
they know about this -- who could miss it? Do you think I should
come back now?"
Riley thought for a moment. "No; keep looking around. You're right,
they surely know about the fires, so there must be something else.
You've been on target for about fifty minutes now; can you give it
another twenty or thirty minutes before you come back?"
"No problem. Even here, I like it better than back there. I'll keep
As I turned away from the oil well, I spotted a small silver object
in the sand. "Mel, I think I see something unusual -- a small
canister, looks like stainless steel. It's stuck in the sand
downwind from the fire."
"What is it?" Riley asked.
"I don't know. It's empty, though -- at least I think it's empty;
nothing is coming out of it." I gazed at the object, which leaned
like the Tower of Pisa. About twenty or so inches high and about
three or four inches in diameter, it was a finished metal cylinder
with perhaps four or six inches of its base wedged into the sand to
hold it upright. It narrowed at the neck, where a valve was placed.
A plastic seal had been torn away and a portion of it lay on the
ground next to the cylinder. I circled it, trying to see something
that might indicate what the cylinder was, but no luck. "There's
something odd about this thing. It just doesn't belong here at all.
I'm moving to another wellhead to see if I can find one that has
some markings on it, or if there's a pattern here."
"Okay, but first can you get a fix on the location of this one?"
"Too late, I'm already moving. But I don't think I could give you a
fix anyway; I can't see enough of the terrain to describe it."
"I understand. Let me know what you find at the next well."
I found similar canisters at every well I could get to in the next
twenty minutes. They varied slightly in size and shape, but they
were always downwind from the fire, as if to avoid burning their
contents. Something about them troubled me deeply, but I couldn't
tell what. "I'm breaking it off and coming home, Mel."
I completed my summary and sketches and was on my way to turn them
in to Nofi when Kathleen returned from her session. She was white as
"You all right, Kathleen?" Jenny asked as Mel ran to her.
"I'm fine, I think I just need to sit down for a while. It was hot
in the room --"
She slumped forward in Mel's arms; her session
papers fell from her hand and scattered on the floor. I helped Mel
carry her to the couch, where we laid her down. She was moaning as
Jenny dialed 911. Paul Posner appeared with a cold washcloth to wipe
her face, and Nofi scrambled out of his office in the commotion. I
thought I saw him actually get nervous there for a minute; he
thought he was in trouble.
Fortunately, the hospital was just across the street and down a
block or so, and Kathleen was even coming to by the time the
ambulance arrived. I noticed her papers still scattered on the
floor, and I hurried to pick them up before the ambulance crew came
It turned out that Kathleen was dehydrated; the heat of the viewing
room and the intensity of the session had taken their toll. She'd be
fine, and so would the baby; she just wouldn't be doing any more
viewing as long as she was pregnant.
After the ambulance left, I went back to my desk with a fresh cup of
coffee. I'd set Kathleen's papers down there; now I started putting
them in order. And my heart nearly stopped. There on page five was a
sketch of the cylinder in the sand, a sketch identical to mine.
"Oh, my God," I said aloud.
Riley came to a stop in front of my desk.
I jumped up and looked around the cubicle doorway to see if anyone
else was coming. The coast was clear, so I sat Mel down in the chair
beside my desk and handed him my sketches and Kathleen's.
"Look at these." I showed him my results.
"So? Are you kidding me? Look at them, they're the same as mine."
"Goddamn, Dave, they're supposed to be the same. You had nearly the
"No, I didn't. Look at Kathleen's tasking sheet, it's there at the
bottom of the stack. She was supposed to took for evidence of
chemical or biological agents. I was supposed to look for ' anything
of military significance,' like a combat unit or a weapon, not to
look for chemicals or bio-agents. What kind of fucking game are they
Riley looked at me, confused. "I don't see what you're getting at,
Suddenly it all seemed clear to me. The DIA wanted to make sure that
a chemical or biological agent had been released on U.S. troops, but
they didn't want anyone else to know. So they made it appear to us
remote viewers that we were targeting different areas, when in fact
we were all targeted on the same area. They also tried to keep us
from talking to one another.
If all of us remote viewers came up with the same results, the DIA
would know that chemical or biological weapons had been used.
However, none of us would know, because we would never be able to
compare notes. Once the use of these unconventional weapons had been
confirmed, the DIA could start their cover-up so the American public
would never find out.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down a bit. "Okay, look. We
all got called in to help out. Nofi doesn't want us to help, but
we're shoved into his lap from all across the United States. Second,
we're all targeted into the same area, with just minor changes in
the coordinates -- something we wouldn't notice unless we sat down
and compared notes, which is a violation of protocol. Third, each
tasking is worded differently. They know we'll all stumble on the
same thing, though -- they know the signal line will lead us to the
most significant aspect of the site. So we give them confirmation of
the employment of biological or chemical weapons, and we never even
realize what we've done, because the only one to put it together is
Nofi. ["John Nofi" DIA RV Project Stargate director -B:.B:.]
"And some closed intelligence cell at DIA," Mel said somberly.
"It's obvious that the Iraqis placed the canisters next to the fires
to mask the plume from the canisters. So I think they released a
slow-acting toxin to poison the coalition forces, and they covered
it up with oil-well fires. Every soldier downwind of those fires
must've inhaled the bug or whatever it was. The poor fuckers are
walking around with time bombs inside themselves, and the rest of
the world is distracted because the environment has been damaged.
It's really slick. Un-fucking-believable." My face tingled, feeling
as though it were a mask and not my own; my hands were numb. "They
know it. Our fucking government knows it and they don't want anyone
else to know it."
"Yeah, can you imagine if this got out? The fucking war is over and
the treaty is being worked on. If this got out, all hell would break
"I'm more cynical than that. I think some lawyer in the Pentagon put
a bug in the secretary's ear about the ramifications of having to
answer to fifty thousand legal or medical claims against the
government. I don't think our illustrious leaders want to break the
bank taking care of the thousands of military who are affected by
this thing especially since they don't know what the extent of the
damage is. They'll just deny any knowledge of it, or spend the next
seventy years faking research until everyone affected is in a box or
in a VA hospital. This is a goddamned conspiracy, that's what it
Riley grabbed me by the arm and shook me. "Just wait a fucking
minute. It all sounds good sitting here at this desk, but think
about what you're saying. Think for a minute, just think." He
released me and sat down again, his head in his hands. "If this is
true, it's far bigger than either of us. We need more evidence. We
need some other sessions."
"So pick one. Everybody in the place is going into the sand and
smoke. When do you work the mission?"
Riley shook his head. "My session won't do any good: I've been shown
the results of yours and Kathleen's, and anyone would say I
duplicated your results to cause a ruckus. Goddammit, Dave, this is
not good. We don't have anyone who will listen to us on this."
"We'll take it to the media!"
"Uh-huh. Who do you think will give you time to explain that you re
a trained military psychic, who is part of this top- secret program
at Fort Meade -- and no, you don't really work there anymore, they
just called you in to visit for this special project?" He paused to
put his hand on my shoulder. "You getting the picture yet, buddy? We
weren't supposed to find this out, and just in case we did, they
brushed their tracks out of the sand. Nobody will ever believe you.
I stared out the window, shaking my head in disbelief. "So what do
we do, Mel? We've seen this; what do we do, ignore it? Then how are
we any different from the guy they were fighting over there?"
"I don't know," Mel said quietly.
"I'm going to tell Nofi that I know. I'll leave you out of it, but I
want the bastard to know that I know what the fuckers are up to." I
grabbed the papers from the desk and started out, but Mel blocked my
way. "Move, Mel. I'm doing this!"
"Over my dead body. If you go in there and let him know that you're
on to him, you may walk out of here tonight. But are you going to
make it home? Think about it, asshole, what are you to them? If they
went to these lengths to keep this quiet, do you think they'll let a
burnout like you spoil their secret for them? How long do you think
it would take them to kill you -- or just discredit you? Oh how are
those goddamned nightmares, anyway?"
"Fuck you, Mel!"
"No, fuck you! You want some more? Where's your wife and children?
How come they don't live with you anymore? Is it because you see
things in the night? Is it because you walk in your sleep and swing
at phantoms? What did you go home every night and tell your wife and
kids about? Didn't you tell them that you could travel in time and
see things remote in time and space. Didn't you do that, Major
Morehouse? Isn't it true that you are simply delusional, perhaps
"You want to take on the big intelligence machine. You want to stand
up like some fucking hero and tell the world that you saw the sons
and daughters of the world poisoned by a madman. Then you want to
add that the U.S. government orchestrated a cover-up. Oh, yes, boys
and girls, ladies and gentlemen of the court-martial jury, we have a
prime lunatic on our hands. We strongly recommend that you find him
guilty of treason and lock his fucking ass in Leavenworth until he
dies. No, no -- better yet, let's give him some good mind-altering
drugs and keep him in a hospital somewhere so his mom and dad can
watch their son eat baby food through a straw." Riley was shaking
with anger and frustration. "You can't do this now." He dropped to
the chair, exhausted. "You can't. It will serve no purpose, and you
will die in the process, I promise you. You have a family to think
about. Now don't make me give you the fucking water parable again,
okay? Just let it go for now. Please tell me you will let it go for
now. Everything has it's season; this will, too. But not now.
I bit my lip in frustration, yet I knew he was right. Everything he
said was true, and speaking up would solve nothing. The heroes had
been poisoned and I could say nothing. Nobody would ever believe me.
"I promise." I wiped a tear from my eye. "I promise."
I saw what happened ... and now, the babies of the heroes are dying.